I read a fantastic comment in The Times from Nick Robinson. I was also pleasantly surprised to find it available online for all to read. It reflects how in the space of a few short days Lord Hutton has gone from being an impartial beacon of judicial potency to a 'lackey' propagating a 'government whitewash' simply because he didn't rule the way people wanted.
Anyhow, the article is available here and is a cracking read. Very funny indeed.
Suck it up Blair detractors, as even Mr Howard begrudgingly admitted (although he didn't evidence such a claim particularly well through his later conduct) "We stand by the report". Indeed you must.
Later
John
Times Poll reveals that 2/3rds of the electorate believes the War in Iraq was justified because of the removal of Saddam.
Sorry Mr Galloway but at the heart of this nation is a recognition that those ruled by the bloody oppression of a rifle butt to the neck deserve the liberty we hold so dear.
Dictators beware. The UK probably won't do anything for at least another decade on such a scale as ousting Saddam but the good people of Britain do accept the justice of such an act of humanity.
I am sat, with a generously proportioned slice of cake, a warm cup of tea and a copy of The Times. It is cold outside and I have just got back in. There can be no more accurate a measure of the simple pleasures of life.
In personal news my sister arrived last night with five(!) of her friends, all intent on crashing in her room because they couldn't get transport. Well in actual fact one of them probably couldn't find transport so another decided to stay with her, then the friend who she was going to escort to the station didn't want to go on her own so she stayed. Ok so that may not be true but it wouldn't surprise me :)
It was mad, the kitchen was filled with girls although to their absolute credit they did not, as is my friends' wont, clean out the fridge. They just went upstairs and texted each other from across the room, at least I presume so as they are rarely seen without a phone in their hands.
The snapshot today is a picture of the shoes as they piled up and obscured the front door. They are all the same style. Quite astonishing to have 6 girls all wearing almost exactly the same type of shoe (in this instance those puffy skater shoes) given that they are so insistent upon never wearing the same outfit as another.
Reading through the internet forums I frequent, I reached a thread on tuition fees. Now as this forum is almost entirely populated by people younger than myself I wasn't terribly surprised to see people bitching about the Higher Education Act. However the one thing that I gleaned from it was something I had suspected for a long time. They don't get it.
Literally they have no bloody clue what the act entails. They know not of the £16,000 barrier, the 25 year cut off, the very small payback ratio or the increased government grants for poorer students. All they know is what is told to them by the mob and opportunistic Conservatives: "it's bad for students", "more money", "poor students should go home now". Some idiot even speaking about all the money they have to shell out "up front" when the whole frikkin' bill abolishes up front fees. I don't mind intelligent debate on matter of policy but this is not an intelligent debate on a matter of policy.
Thank heavens the bill passed.
Any why oh why does this generation suddenly think everything's a marching matter. I refer here to one forum poster who noted that if he had a mob with him he'd go and march on the capital. I will be frank, no matter what you thought about the war on Iraq the marches through London cheapened what was the finest example of non violent protest to grow out of the Western Democratic system.
The marches of Martin Luther King were conducted almost entirely in silence. Ghandi barely spoke a word. Nowadays to have a march it seems absolutely necessary to bang drums, blow whistles, shout out marching themes, wave ridiculously loudly coloured and sensationalist placards and generally behave like a parading collective of football fans celebrating a victory.
Another thing I despair about is the constant personal attacks my generation level at Tony Blair "He's a sniveling git", "what a twat" etc. Firstly the people who offer them, I am glad to say are those who know nothing of his policy. Those who disapprove of his social welfare agenda can generally debate things intelligently. The problem is we have a celebrity Prime Minister and as a result he is subject to all the rules of celebrity and in this country that means Tall Poppy Syndrome.
TPS is the blood sport of the people of England, they build people up so they can tear them down from a greater height. It's done with all celebrities and Mr Blair, who's 1997 campaign effectively elevated him to such a status makes him an obvious target. Personal attacks against celebrities never require justification and neither, it would seem do they have such a requirement to be leveled at Mr Blair. Say what you will about his policies and I will listen, but as soon as you start throwing insults at him personally it is a clear signal that you aren't capable of adult debate.
I've in the past called Michael Howard "an utterly unpleasant politician", in fact it was almost yesterday and that is the height of the vitriol I can summon against the man. No matter how incredibly poor his history has been as a Home secretary and now a party leader I will not stoop to say "what a slimy bastard" or such because the moment I do I'm letting something other than his policies and actions influence my opinion of him.
Then someone said and I quote "Looks like Blair's gonna get away with the whole Hutton Inquiry thing as well."
What on earth?! "Get away with" the Hutton Report?! He was found entirely innocent of any unscrupulous or underhand dealings. What utter idiocy, its like saying "oh that bloke who was found innocent by a court... He got away with the murder"!
I despair. I really do. It's always been incredibly 'uncool' to like the government but you're never prepared for such a foolhardy sentiment it when you meet it.
Oh and I'd like to quote something from the Financial Times, previously quoted by Andrew Sullivan.
"Criticising the conduct of US and British policy towards Iraq is legitimate, as is disquiet about the effectiveness of the two countries' intelligence operations. But impugning the honourable motives of those who sought to defend their countries, by dealing with a threat they believed they could not ignore, is not." - The Financial Times
Later
John
Day 1: Higher Education Bill - Gov't Victory
Day 2: Hutton Report - Gov't Victory
And it bloody well snowed, I couldn't be more smiley!
The Hutton Report was just debated in parliament, Mr. Blair recounted the entirety of the conclusions relating to his clearance from any "underhand" or unscrupulous activity and called for a withdrawal from Michael Howard. What he got was nothing more than a vindictive verbal thrashing-around of a man who's new year political strategy is in its death throws.
After Michael Howard had finished his own laughable 'Howard Report', Blair articulated in the calmest of terms a conclusion that I myself reached watching Mr. Howard's speech from the dispatch box. I paraphrase it here as best I can remember it so I'll have to go and find a transcript somewhere:
"I - well I was going to say I expected but I know I should not, I would have liked the right honorable gentleman to make a dignified retraction in light of the conclusions found in this report however he has shown himself incapable of such an act"
"The right honorable gentleman yesterday faced a challenge of policy and failed. Today he faced a challenge of character and he has failed that too."
Blair finished with a brilliant couplet which I recall with considerably more clarity:
"He has shown that nastiness is not effectiveness
That opportunism is not Leadership"
I was disgusted watching Mr. Howard's reply. Iain Duncan Smith in such a position would have been enough of a gentleman to admit that his assertions of 'lying' to the house were entirely unfounded and utterly blasted by the Hutton Report. No such withdrawal came from the 'leader' of the opposition. What benefit of the doubt I had leant him as the incumbent Tory leader has been shredded.
He was an utterly unpleasant politician when he was home secretary and he is an utterly unpleasant politician now. He chose opportunism over the good of the country on the Higher Education Bill, when public opinion was swung entirely behind the measures and the majority of commentators saw they were intelligent and today he is like a petulant child who refuses to admit culpability in light of evidence no one can ignore.
The assertions played out in the media throughout the entirety of the last year following Andrew Gilligan's story; that the prime minister lied; that he lied to the house; that he lied to the people and that he played a key role in outing Doctor Kelly have been utterly and irrefutably disproved by an impartial judicial inquiry.
Tony Blair has born this weight for a long time and has been subject to personal attacks of such ferocity and unpleasantness that would have broken a lesser man. Now when there is clear evidence absolving him absolutely of the crimes he was accused of by the opposition and the media he has every right to demand withdrawal, indeed such a right is afforded to him at law. Mr. Howard seems not to have the requisite integrity to make such a withdrawal and for that I dispose of any respect I held for the man.
And I made a bloody nice snowman ;)
Later
John
I made my usual arrangements to stay on Richard and Lee's sofa today, however after calling Lee who said it was fine because Richard would be at the flat this evening and then calling Richard who said the same of Lee I realized that neither would, in fact, be present and that staying on their sofa wasn't an option.
Still, It would be patently unjust to complain as they have been extremely accommodating in allowing me the use of their couch for the Sunday-Monday stayover so I can get to my early monday morning appointment on time. They have also been kind enough to allow me the use of their sofa for tomorrow night so I can be at my exam on time (9 am, no less).
After that exam I best get looking for property in earnest, I've been prevented from doing so, until now by my exams and revision routine but with an end in sight (tuesday afternoon to be precise) I have leave to scout around.
Shadowbane continues to wreak havoc upon my spare time, leveling like a demon to try and catch up with Conrad, I accidentally overtook him. After an hour of optimistic waiting around for him, Conrad despite the odds, logged into the world and it looked like we were about to go and do some serious gaming. Up until the point that my mother needed to make a phone call and I was obliged to leave with a hasty explanation only 15 seconds after having met up with him.
I really need that flat so I can get my broadband set up again. It'd be wonderful to get back to how I was at the beginning of my first year of university, the master of my own affairs. However the flat was never 'mine' - particularly towards the end of my tenure when I seemed to spend more time cohabiting with my grandmother than not.
I always feel ungrateful being home, as if I don't do enough around the house to justify my staying there.
However at the same time I don't feel comfortable here, its just not where I need to be. I can say that family life away from my father sucks just as much as it ever did but people just get on with things. That's the problem, I spent so long just accepting the status quo in the hope of better days that now that there's no longer the 'light at the end of the tunnel' I don't see why the hell I'm bothering. Everyone assumed I loved it here in England.
Certainly I enjoyed the company of my friends but at the end of the day the only thing that mattered to me was that the family was together and Hong Kong was the only place where that could happen. When that was taken from me I felt as if I was a lieutenant in some deserted army, why on earth should I bother to soldier on when all I strove for had been stripped of me?
Everything just seems ridiculous, I'm beginning to question why I even play the game. Wouldn't it just be easier to spend my weekends up in London when I'm in my flat? Apparently it just makes people sad. I don't care about other people's feelings you see, they can't manage when I act that way. They just cry.
On a significantly lighter note, to dam this lengthy stream of pontification, I offer you one of the more humorous case titles I've come across in my study for today's snapshot.
Butt v Slack - God bless the common law
It might not be as fantastically silly as the brilliant Michael Jackson Fancy Goods Ltd case (which was heard in 1968, making the coincidence all the more outlandish), but it has its strengths :)
Later
John
Well Shadowbane had its European launch recently and Conrad and I leapt in eagerly. I've powergamed to the best of my ability and hit level 11 in about 4-5 hours gametime. It's just as good as it was when I left the beta last year so it's nice to be able to play it again.
I had the exam on Friday, it was nice on the whole. The questions I wanted came up and I managed to get it all done with 10 minutes to grammar check. I'm pretty pleased with my performance, even though I don't actually know how well I did.
So, water on mars, whattya know? I only read about it on friday whilst sitting across on the train from a person with the Evening Gazette, then I gave up my seat so I didn't catch any more of it. Why does no one do that anymore? Perhaps I was brought up in an antiquated manner but I always and I mean always give up my seat on public transport for a woman. Even in Hong Kong where you don't get so much as a thank you or an 'M'goi' only a "What on earth is that crazy Gweilo doing?! He's giving up his seat! Chi-Siin!" Its the same with doors. I remember waiting for my father when I was about 13, at the Mandarin Oriental hotel and whiling away the quarter of an hour by opening the main door for people as the door attendant was busy getting people taxis.
Almost makes me wish hats were more prevalent so I had something to doff.
I've spent the whole of saturday revising Company Law and will no doubt spend all of tomorrow doing the same, and all of monday. Bloody exam on Tuesday, puts a crimp on what would otherwise be a thoroughly enjoyable week leading up to the new term.
Good news is provided by Beth who has obtained an unconditional offer from Glasgow University - Hurrah for her. She's still waiting for Edinburgh. Poor Kev hasn't heard anything from UCAS which doesn't actually mean anything re: his grades or offers but does mean he's got good reason to start garroting UCAS employees wherever he sees them.
My sister has fantastic news, which I neglected to relate through this blog. She received an unconditional offer from Kent, and actually got an interview to Manchester. She's applied for some Drama with Film course which apparently requires its applicants to be child stars and committed members of the local theatre (neither of which she is) to get an interview, - 85% are turned down without the much-coveted interview. Much congratulation is offered to her as said course is actually just a direct talent feed into the BBC, ITV and various film companies. I hope it all goes well for her.
Some of these drama courses require you to perform an audition piece. Sadly my suggestion of turning up in leg warmers and belting out "Fame!! I'm gonna live forever!! I'm gonna learn how to fly! (High!)" was turned down.
Right, time for a cup of tea. Like Bill Bryson I can't help but love the English ability to become quite genuinely excited by the prospect of a hot beverage. Even now the image of a slowly whirling beige liquid in a nice mug has me very eager to end this sentence and grab a cuppa.
Later
John
I awoke this morning, with typical coordination and elegance to the sound of the phone ringing. I answered it dutifully and once I had oriented it correctly (which took several attempts), surmised that the person on the other end was my father. We had a brief chit chat before I returned to bed - 8:30am is an unconscionable time at which to rise.
The phone rang again at 9am, heralding the call of my Aunty Laura and then once more at about 10am, ensuring I had just enough time to get comfortable again before it interrupted my dozing. Whilst all the conversations I had were cheering and enjoyable they were not sufficiently so (as few things can be) as to eclipse my longing for a warm duvet.
I noticed that I had been left a list of duties to complete on the family whiteboard and so set about completing them. It was when I reached the curious instruction of "Tidy Thomas and Francesca's bedroom", a task which was entirely alien to my normal duty roster that I realized the handwriting in which my morning's labours were set out, was curiously unlike my mothers.
In fact it looked rather more like that of my little sister.
The wording was rather more stark than I was used to as well. An insistent "Do not sleep instead!" was scrawled above the tasks in place of the rather more cheery salutation I normally read each morning.
However it was the insulting, yet rather skillful sketch of my face, distorted by stick-out teeth and piggy nostrils, which cemented my thoughts on the matter.
The list had been the product of my sadistic 10 year old sister, and worse still - I had fallen for it hook line and sinker. I was already half way through the bogus schedule!
Therefore I offer you, today a view of this entirely humbling gag in the snapshot window. Rest assured however, revenge will be mine :)
As always you can see the other snapshots in the archives. I also realized that it isn't much effort to make 2 sizes of picture so the snapshot archives can contain the full resolution pictures, straight from the phone. Admittedly this resolution isn't great but the one I previously used (the size displayed in the snapshot window) is only 40% of the actual picture size.
When I finally surfaced in earnest today, I hit the books straight away. I spent a few hours of my last day completing my total set of detailed notes (oh the irony) and then every hour after that doing every single past exam question I could get my hands on.
I didn't write them out entirely as that would have taken far too long, been entirely pointless and wouldn't have given me a big enough field of questions for my limited time. Instead I just submitted big'ol detailed plans. By the end of them I was seriously confident in my abilities to totally 'pwn' this exam. What is more the exam papers seem to have actually gotten easier as time has progressed. The 1997 paper seemed markedly harder than the 2003 one, albeit by a margin too small to excite Tabloid journalists.
I actually put the difference in difficulty down two alternate factors rather than insisting things were harder 'back in the day'.
Firstly the typefont is ridiculous and almost unreadable. It boggles the mind to think that people used to put up with something that looks like a 'print' command return from a BASIC app on an old BBC computer who's parameters were:
10 If you'reabastard = andyouknowit
20 Clap your hands
30 Set $typefont = "unreadableMTCserif"
40 Print $randomlegalbollucks
50 GOTO 10
60 END
Secondly, the actual subjects of the questions were different from those studied in our new improved course (pursuant of the university's obligation to actually teach relevant law).
The second factor is especially important. I watched a program on Channel 4 last summer, which was devised and televised for the sole purpose of allowing a load of middle aged farts some sort of empirical evidence of schoolwork being harder 'back in my day'. It was called "That'll teach 'em" and it followed a group of dozens of modern school children subjected to the rigors of a 1950's boarding school.
At the end of the series all the children failed their 50's O levels. Particularly math. The results were aired to much back patting and self congratulation amongst the over 45's.
The thing is that those kids were failing their math because they didn't know the requisites to learn the subject itself. Nowadays kids don't get taught as much pure arithmetic as they did before because a $2 calculator outperforms them spectacularly.
However if you were to sit a 1950's kid in front of a modern GCSE he'd fail and flounder too. The mathematics we teach children today are complex by virtue of the evolution of low cost tools to aid their calculation.
What it boiled down to was that the students in the series failed because their syllabus had changed. Just as my university exams seem to be getting easier by the year as syllabus topics are phased in and out.
As for the rest of that show my reaction to it can be summed up thusly:
"I didn't need to watch a 6 part series to know that school in the 1950's sucked"
I react similarly to those odious programs put forward by terrestrial channels in which people are put through a change of circumstance.
eg: "I didn't need to watch that 2 part documentary to know that being poor sucked"
Anyhow, it was after this long slog that I realized that the 23rd was in fact Friday, not Thursday as I had initially envisaged and that I had another day to revise.
Part of me was playing rather enthusiastic air guitar to a certain Queen song
The other part was dimly recognizing that this cut my revision time for Company Law down to just 3 days. At least I know the Company Law syllabus considerably better than I did Sale and Supply of Goods and Services. Nonetheless I'd rather have at least 4 days if it's all the same :)
Ah well, I only have 2 exams to face before the new term starts and I can hop back on the study bandwagon. Once I've done both my tests I'll have time to sit around and wait the new semester. If only more subjects were examined through coursework, it seems a better analogy for Legal work in the field.
Later
John
So, I finally have my blog back online. I can't begin to describe how great it is to have it up again but I figure this post I wrote on New Years is a pretty good indicator of what I've been like without it:
I'm suffering from Blogging withdrawal symptoms. Obviously you're reading this so my host is paid and I'm back to blogging but at the moment, as I'm writing this I'm really missing my weblog. I can't articulate how frustrating it is to no longer have this little window out onto the world, my depository for all the little thoughts which prick my consciousness hourly, the flickering panes of daily sights I preserve with my little camera and whatever musings I might have to offer. Without my blog I almost feel suffocated..
It's true, without this site or my counseling I didn't have an outlet and just ended up bottling things up. Ironically I seemed chirpier to those around but that was more a case of entirely ignoring myself rather than being engulfed by my mood, two extremes of decidedly unhealthy behaviour. Even with an appearance which was leagues sunnier than what I could have presented a few months ago people commented that I was withdrawn. Thank heavens they didn't meet me in November. I'd have wrought an evil tide of melancholy over Christmas ;)
In the time since Christmas I have caught a nasty cold, been treated with anti-biotics and in the past week following the completion of my course of penicillin, had the symptoms return.
I wrote an entire coursework piece for Property Law without access to my notes, unit guidebook and materials; possessing only a text and a lot of time spent in the Law Library. I then proceeded to find said notes today, they had been filed with my brother and sisters' stationary in the dining room.
Finally, having handed in the coursework on Friday the 16th, I have spent all the time since revising for a test on Thursday. Upon completion of that unit exam I have another few days of revision to look forward to culminating in an exam on Tuesday. The new semester begins on the following Monday.
3 weeks of solid work/revision followed by 6 days relaxation - Bring it!
I had the good fortune to be watching BBC Parliament when a House of Lords debate on the Guantanamo Bay detainees was aired. One Lord brought up an exceedingly interesting answer to the problem of what to charge the British citizens with when America shuffles them into our care.
Treason.
Yep! That's right!
They're subjects of Her Majesty the Queen. They've engaged in active military combat against Her Majesty's forces with aims detrimental to the United Kingdom. If it can be proved that they fought against british soldiers they are guilty of Treason!
Stick that in your pipe and smoke it Mr. Galloway!
I knew there was a reason we still had those laws :)
Kebeol has been without my writing for some time in the wake of the winter holidays. I'll start churning out the articles again as soon as I'm more settled. Speaking of which, the green light has been given to search for property who's rent is priced at around £150 a week. Huzzah! A place to stay.
Another 'thank you' must be offered to Richard and Lee, who have kindly leant me the use of their sofa on several occasions this past month. In fact, as Richard put it, "Louis lives her on Sundays".
This is because I can't get into London on time for my counseling on a monday without donning a red cape and wearing my underpants on the front of my trousers and as I must take all pains to conceal my secret identity I try to keep exposure to a minimum. Besides, it was the NFC Playoffs - or the semi finals for the SuperBowl.
Yes that's right. American Football. Don't ask me why but it's not all that bad to watch.
Now America has made some bloody crap sports up in its time.
Baseball is so atrociously boring that it actually makes cricket look exciting - and that's a game we invented to last 3 days! Cricket's just an excuse for England to be liberally stomped on by countries who used to be part of the empire! A visit to a one day international is like viewing the rosetta stone only with "Suck it up pommies!" spoken in 6 languages.
Basketball can have its ludicrously over-enthusiastic commentary condensed into a transcript which reads like this:
"A Scores
B Scores
A Scores
B Scores
A Scores
Oh wait! A Scores again!
B Scores
A Scores
B Scores
A Wins!!!"
And yet, I stayed up till ridiculous o'clock watching a number of men in stupidly tight trousers, playing a game which lasts 3 hours with only 60 minutes actual play time.
It has half the openness of actual Football, it is never 'the beautiful game' and one would never experience anything as exquisite as a Beckham free kick or a Roberto Baggio finish amongst its staccato plays and interrupting runs. Yet I'm hooked.
Bring on the Superbowl - indeed I judiciously recommended to Lee that he ought to organize a Superbowl party of some variety at his flat this year. One where people actually watched the sporting event.
It has however, become inescapably clear to me that the logic of creating a game, with periods between play just long enough to warrant a trip to the kitchen for a drink or some chips, is sound.
Tomorrow another
Site back, thanks to good friend Matt, who leant me the use of his credit card. Although in the end it didn't accept it but strangely did take a paypal payment from my ludicrously debt-ridden switch card.
Back to the posting, including pasting in the few posts I wrote over the christmas period.. Huzzah!
Back to life
Later
John